


Now You've Done It...

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, He knows the future, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil is a messenger of the gods, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), hes here to wisk away his kids b4 shit goes south, tags will update as fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Phil has been a loyal warrior and messenger of the gods, battling and killing in their name for most of his life — and he's been a father for just as long. Not everyone is lucky enough to land this job and be allowed to raise a family while doing it, but Phil managed... despite what may come of it. He always feared the day he would have to raise his sword against his own sons, but he knew it was inevitable. The gods were always fans of stories with dramatic irony.Luckily for Phil, they had grown attached to the characters and took pity on him.Delivered a prophecy, Phil is given a chance to save the lives of his sons before it's too late. It won't be easy, of course. His children are ridiculously stubborn, and even if he can get them to actually listen to him, they won't heed his warning. If he wanted to change the future, he was going to have to do this the hard way.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94
Collections: anonymous





	1. Giving Dad a Heart Attack

**Author's Note:**

> This was sitting in my drafts on Tumblr for about a week, and I'm posting it before it gets completely lost in the pages and pages of draft space I use as bookmarks. sbiminustubbo.tumblr.com
> 
> DSMP AU, Dadza is a warrior/messenger on behalf of the gods (unspecified bc tbh IDC) He basically intervenes in wars and battles that drastically alter the future in a way they don't like. However, they aren't upset by the outcome of what happens in the SMP, they just really like Phil and decided to give him a heads up of what the fuck his stupid kids were doing while not in his care. What can I say, he's really good at his job.

A plate slips from Phil’s hand and shatters on the floor as his head feels like it’s about to split in two. He grabs his skull in pain, leaning against the wall to keep himself from falling. He curses under his breath, gritting his teeth so hard it hurts. 

Flashing colors partnered with a roaring explosion sends him sliding to the floor, disoriented. Images of his children scroll by in an instant, pictures he owned shown ripped and burned. Then, just like paper, he feels his wings go up in flames, a sword in his hand, and blood at his feet.

_**“You’re my son, damn it!”** _

As quickly as it started, the pain, images, and sounds stop abruptly. Phil falls to his hands and knees, the sudden silence of his home deafening. He gasps for air, desperately grabbing at his wings in a panic. His relief at feeling the intact feathers tickle his fingertips doesn’t even begin to calm him as the shock settles in.

Phil has been a messenger of the gods’ for nearly twenty-seven years, so he should be used to the visions by now, but he’s never had one _**so intense**_ — or involving his children. It felt like he’d just been punched in the gut, stabbed in the heart, then set on fire over and over again. His limbs shake, sweat dripping from his face onto the wood floor. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

Shakily, Phil sits up, regain control of his breathing. “It’s okay, Phil, It’s okay,” he pants. “It always takes a minute. Just breathe, focus.”

He always hated the visions. They were damn distracting and nearly killed him twice. They weren’t even helpful until after the fact. The initial snippets of images unfold and expand as he recalls them, new information coming to light. The memories reply on loop until the objective is complete. 

Usually, he didn’t pay them any mind and instead waited for the gods to call upon him directly — but this time, something’s different. Normally the images are bright and colorful, with every detail on display. Here it was dark, muddied, and difficult to distinguish anything. It’s almost eerie in a way. Like he shouldn’t see this. It’s nothing like the other visions he’s received. What were they trying to tell him?

He spits out a laugh that turns into a cough. Damn, he’s still short of breath. Shakily, he stands, supporting himself on the wall.

It’s not a command, but a warning, a prophecy — and his boys are at the center of it. But this isn’t some earth-shattering event that rewrites the tides of history. It’s a petty squabble between nonexistent nations in the middle of nowhere. The gods don’t care about a botched reenactment of the Stanford prison experiment. They don’t care what happens to a _**servant’s son**_.

 _ **This is a personal call**_.

“I could have done without the heart attack!” Phil shouts towards his ceiling, in between panting. “You could have just beamed me up, you know!”

The sound of distant music plays, and a warm light surrounds Phil. Well, **someone** heard him. Now, hopefully, they could give him answers. His sons, war, and bloodshed, what did it all mean? He had a bad feeling deep down in his gut that told him he didn’t want to know.

Right before disappearing from his home, Phil receives one final snippet. He groans in second-hand embarrassment. “ _ **Please**_ tell me they didn’t call it that.”

—

_WHAM_

The landing is a rough one, but he was in a rush.

Phil lays flat on his back in the hallway, motionless with his wings spread out uncomfortably against the adjacent walls. If he hadn’t had the wind knocked out of him, he would have yelled out in pain. He quickly regains his breath as if it were nothing, filled with a new sense of purpose.

“Kids, coupe, L’manberg, Pogtopia — _**got it**_.”

Phil quickly stands, jumping to his feet with minimal effort. He looks to the mini calendar to his left, pushing up his baggy sleeves to reveal bandaged arms. Shit, that was only a few days away. If he wanted to make it in time, he would need to leave immediately.

Storming through his home while tying his hair back, Phil thinks about essential items to bring. He didn’t have a lot of time to pack, and he didn’t have the space to transport much, either. That shouldn’t be too much of a problem if he brings them back here, but what if he gets caught on the way or can’t get back out? He needed weapons and food. A bag full of nothing but potions won’t do him any good.

His hands shake as he grabs bundles of meat and bread from the kitchen. He heads to the supply closet and fumbles the bow and arrows he tries to grab, dropping them. He doesn’t even bother being upset with himself as he picks them up. He’s already worried sick and angry — well, more frustrated — with the boys.

How the hell did they manage to ruin things so badly it leads Phil to _**kill one of them**_ , leaving the other two resenting each other? After everything he had taught them, none of this should be happening! Stay out of the limelight, don’t make a career in politics, and if you _**ever**_ hear whispers of war on the horizon, you pack up and _**leave**_! And you sure as hell don’t _**start one yourselves**_.

Phil roughly stuffs away some supplies into his bag and hooks a crossbow on his hip, mumbling to himself irritably. Had it only been one of them, he wouldn’t be surprised, people stray from the light sometimes — but all three? They were supposed to be looking out for one another and keep each other in check! The way they were acting now is as if they couldn’t care less. _**When your brother mentally spirals downwards, you don’t just keep it to yourself, Techno**_ **.**

He physically has to stop himself, gripping a dining room chair to come back down to earth. None of that was important right now. His boys were still in danger, and he needed to save them. He would have all the time in the world to be angry at them when they’re safe and sound.

For now, he had to make a plan. How was he going to get them out? He can’t just ask them. His children are stubborn and won’t back down until it backfires in their faces.

He could just splash them with some sickness potions and take them. That may be the easiest way to deal with them. He grabs one then pauses. Suddenly disappearing in the middle of the night will only lead the others to look for them.

As he paces around his room, digging through drawers and piles of paper, a glint on the wall catches his eye. It’s his sword, the one given to him by the gods for meant for fulfilling his duty. It’s been hanging on a plaque collecting dust for a while. He hasn’t used it in months.

This isn’t divine intervention. There’s no message to deliver, no war to halt on behalf of the gods. This is a personal errand. None of the higher powers involved.

Well, Phil never met a man that doesn’t fear the wrath of the almighty — it couldn’t hurt.

Hesitantly, he reaches up, grabbing the blade by the handle. At the moment of contact, a haunting image flashed in his mind. All emotion fades, reminding him of the stakes.

He examines it nervously. Despite all the bloodshed and years of wear and tear, the purple blade still shines in the sunlight as if it were brand new. This is the same sword he will use — _**would used**_ — to kill his son.

After a painfully long moment, Phil sheathes the sword on his belt near the crossbow. He already knows what’ll happen, and he knows how to change it, so he has the advantage. Anything can happen, but as long as he’s smart, he won’t be doomed to repeat it.

Phil looks in the mirror. He’s as ready as he’s ever going to be. He does one final check of materials, heads downstairs, and dawns his signature green and white cap from the closet.

_**He’s giving those kids hell** _ **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I wanna turn this into a full story or not, so feedback appreciated
> 
> For anyone concerned about Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur, I wouldn't say they genuinely fear for their lives here. Phil is their dad, and though he isn't above whacking his children with swords to get them to behave, they know if divinity wanted them dead, they wouldn't send Phil because he wouldn't do it.
> 
> They're more scared in a... "OH SHIT DAD IS FUCKING PISSED" type of way (I find that dynamic infinitely funny). He's having internal turmoil over worry and trying to save his kids but his smile comes off as incredibly passive-aggressive.
> 
> **EDIT** Thanks for the feedback! Went ahead and decided to move forward with making this a full length story, and it will be updated overtime. The original first chapter of this fic has been moved to chapter two, and is largely untouched minus minor editing and being extended.


	2. Rounding Up The Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes what was originally part of the first chapter — just with minor editing and extended quite a bit. Enjoy!

Phil sits high up in a nearby tree hidden behind leaves within the branches. He has a perfect line of sight to where they’ll meet, but angled so they can’t see him. It’s still a little close for comfort, but as long as he’s still and doesn’t make too much noise, he should be safe. Besides, the clearing is surrounded on all sides by a forest. An animal rusting through some trees shouldn’t cause any suspicion.

He waits in anticipation, a crowd slowly growing as the minutes pass. He rubs the side of his finger and thumb together nervously. The longer it took the three of them to get here, the less time he had to get them out. That number only goes down as more and more people arrive.

As he’s watching, the crowd turns their heads towards a figure approaching from the other side of the forest. A couple of people walk up to him, meeting halfway to give him some supplies and armor. He can’t quite tell from this distance, but it looks to be a kid. At first, Phil thinks it’s Tommy, but his hair is brown instead of blonde, he’s much too short, and —

Phil’s eyes widened. “Is that Tubbo?” he whispers to himself. He squints. Sure enough, it’s him.

And like that, nearly all of his problems are solved.

Tubbo is a longtime friend of Tommy’s, and he knew all about the family. Phil wasn’t sure how familiar this crowd was with mythology, but with Tubbo around, he won’t have to worry about that.

“They are coming, right?” a man in the crowd asks.

“Of course!” Tubbo says. “They’ll be here any minute. Then we can go over the plan.”

Hmm, they’re that far behind? Leave it to his sons to wait until the last possible moment. Phil chuckles. That’s most likely Techno’s fault. He always was a terrible procrastinator.

Phil leans back against the tree to relax. That’s fine, he thinks. He can wait. They’ve been anticipating this day for months, so why not let them reveal the plan and give their little speeches? He doesn’t want to ruin _**all**_ their fun.

He tightens his grip on his sword’s hilt. But the _**moment**_ they head off for L’manberg, he’s intervening. His children will never step foot in that county again, so help him.

—

_**It’s showtime.** _

“You three decide to start a war and don’t even think about inviting your old man? Honestly, I’m disappointed.”

At the sound of his voice, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur, all whip around and stare at Phil in wide-eyed horror. He floats above a tree, the gentle flap of his wings keeping him suspended in mid-air. He has his sword in his offhand, his overcoat tied behind his back with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows.

He glares at his sons and the strangers around them, all ignorant of who he was, looking to each other for answers. They hadn’t a clue of who he was, why he was here, or what his presence meant to generals and warmongers.

Oh, but _**they**_ knew. The fear is written all over their faces. They know what a messenger of the Gods wrought when they came down from the sky before a battle. They’ve seen it first hand — a lesson that taught them nothing.

“Seriously,” Phil says, gliding to land two meters away from them. “I had to find out from them.” He points to the sky, his face neutral.

The silence is deafening. The forest had gone quiet, and all around them held their breaths and waited. Even the wind stopped. Phil’s feathers puff up, the air thick with dread.

Wilbur is the first to speak. “H-hey, Da— _**Phil**_ , uh, nice to see you— _**AUHG**_ **!** ”

Techno smacks him upside the head with his hand. “ _ **What the hell are you doing?!**_ ” he bites out angrily. Phil can’t help but grimace. When did they get so violent with each other?

Tommy rushes over to Wilbur’s side to defend him. “Yo, Techno, what the hell, man!”

“What’s your problem,” Wilbur shouts, glaring at his older brother. “What, I can’t just say _**hello**_ to—”

“Are you serious? Am I the only one who paid attention!?” he spits, gesturing to Phil. “You’re not supposed to greet an angel of death on the battlefield! If this is serious, you just blew our _**only**_ chance to escape!”

Phil doesn’t miss that _**if**_.

Murmuring breaks out among the crowd as Wilbur processes Techno’s words, all speculation, and hearsay. Phil can pinpoint the exact moment when Wilbur realizes just how badly he screwed up. Once the door is open, divine intervention is unavoidable. Simply acknowledging his presence initiates a battle. Whatever happens next is fate and cannot be stopped.

They were lucky Phil was the one deciding destiny today. Normally it was dictated by the powers that be. They were rarely so kind.

Wilbur stares up at him, a deranged look in his eyes rivaling the past few weeks of his slipping sanity. It stabs Phil right through the chest, reminding him of what’s at stake. If he wanted to save him — all of them — this was his only chance. He clenches his jaw.

Tommy steps in front of his Techno and Wilbur, hands raised. “Woah, guys, why are you being all serious? I mean, surely he’s here for a visit. It’s not like the message is for us.” He pauses, craning his neck to look up at Phil. “ **R-right**?” he asks with a shaky grin.

Phil gives him a close-eyed smile. “Haven’t decided yet.”

All the color drains from Tommy’s face, his eyes filling with fear as he backs away toward his brothers. Techno subconsciously steps forward to shield him, red cloak flowing in the wind. Tommy’s fear was probably genuine, but Wilbur and Techno at least seemed to suspect what was going on. Not that it made them any less fearful. They feared him over faceless deities any day.

He found no joy in scaring his children, but after three sleepless days filled with panic and worry, he deserved a _**little**_ payback. He holds back a laugh. Man, they’re so going to hate him later.

Phil opens his eyes just in time to witness Techno pull something from his pocket and conceal it behind his back. He leans over to Wilbur and Tommy and whispers something inaudible, not taking his eyes off Phil once. That’s just like Techno, thinking he can outrun fate. For a connoisseur of greek legend and mythos, he fell victim to that fairly often.

They continue to whisper to each other. The crowd grows tense as Phil slowly raises his sword while they’re distracted. It was something he prayed he would never have to do towards his sons. Though, raising children while being a messenger, it’s inevitable. There’s a reason others don’t have families.

But that time hasn't come yet. Phil raises his sword against them on _**his**_ terms, _**his**_ plan. He will be the one to decide their future. He won’t stand by and watch his family tear itself apart. He won’t stab his son through the heart, and he won’t let Techno and Tommy betray each other over and over. He wouldn’t allow all this destruction.

Most importantly, he’s not letting them get away with any of the bullshit they’ve been pulling. He was going to catch them one by one — fight them if he had to — and take them away. He’ll bring them all far from here to a nice little house in the woods. He would care for their wounds, assure they got proper rest — _**and then he was going to explain to them just how badly they fucked up**_.

Because

“Techno, Tommy, Wilbur — Sons of the house of Watson,”

No matter how old they get, or where they are,

Phil raises his sword. “The gods send you a message.”

_**Kids still need discipline**_.

Techno shatters a bottle at their feet, “ _ **SCATTER**_!”

The three of them take off in different directions. The crowd follows suit, retreating into the forest. Judging by the particles and the boys’ speed, it was most likely a swiftness potion. Phil sighs. They were going to do this the hard way, weren’t they?

Without hesitation, Phil grabs the crossbow from his belt and shoots at Tommy’s foot. The arrow threads through his shoelace and lodges into the ground, causing him to trip. He lets out a scream of surprise and lands flat on his face. Ouch, that’s going to leave a mark. Well, at least the arrow didn’t go _**through**_ his foot. Lucky break.

“What the fuck, old man! I could’ve broken my ankle!” Tommy yells, his face covered in dirt and grass.

“You know that potion was just for him, right?” Phil says, ignoring him. He quickly checks him over for injuries. But by just judging by his attitude, he was fine. “Splash potions aren’t as effective when applied indirectly.”

Tommy stares up at him in surprise. Phil raises an eyebrow. He really should have known that by now. 

“Techno!” he yells. “You rat bastard, get back here—!” _**WHACK**_. Phil bonks him on the head with the flat edge of his sword, knocking him out. Tommy was right to be angry but there was no time for sibling quarrels right now.

Now, where is Tubbo?

With his son hoisted over his shoulder, Phil flies high into the sky to observe the dissipating crowd from up above. Most of them have already gone into the forest, but a few of the slower ones remain. He squints, noticing a small dark green dot in the middle of all the chaos, unmoving while others around them flee.

That must be him.

He swoops down, and Tubbo falls on his rear while trying to back away. He’s afraid, so he must think this is real. Good. He drops Tommy at his feet.

“If I come back and he isn’t here, I’m taking you too,” Phil threatens. “Understand?”

Tubbo nods frantically. “Y-yes, sir!”

Good. That was the easy part. Now, for the terrible two.

He catches up to Wilbur quickly.

The swiftness potion had worn off quicker than it did for Tommy, and he was already an exhausted mess, so he wasn’t getting far on his own. That must be why Techno left him behind. Phil swore they went the same direction, but he’s nowhere in sight. Phil will need to make this quick. He’s the one Phil’s most worried about.

“Holy shit!” Wilbur shouted, one of his arms pinned to a tree by an arrow through his sleeve, a bow in the other. He stares at his arm in disbelief. “Nice shot.”

Phil pulls an arrow from his leg. “Likewise,” he says with a bright warm smile. “Now stay there until I get back, and we won’t have problems.”

Wilbur scoffs, oozing confidence. “What, you think I won’t just pull this out and run off?”

Phil approaches him, Wilbur’s confidence fading. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

He stares at him skeptically. “What—?” _**SPLASH**_.

Normally a slowness potion wouldn’t knock anyone out, let alone someone of Wilbur’s size, but he was running on fumes at this point. It didn’t take much.

Removing the arrow from his sleeve, Phil gently leans Wil against the tree. “Wow, two out of three in less than twelve minutes.” It may be because he’s their father, but these kids have been really easy to kidnap so far.

That sentence sets off less alarm bells than it should.

Phil places his outer coat over Wilbur as he lays unconscious. Both as an act to keep him warm and to protect him. He didn’t have time to return him to Tubbo, and he can’t take him, but this will at least keep Wilbur hidden for the time being.

“Now, where’s your other half…”

He finds him riding on a horse through a narrow path in the forest.

It’s somewhat surprising. Though Phil’s confrontation with Wilbur lasted less than a minute, so he couldn’t get very far, even riding at full speed. But Techno didn’t need much time to defy the odds and achieve the impossible. He could have a million secret stashes hidden around this area. Who knows what supplies he managed to scrounge up. Hell, he had gotten a horse between now and when Phil had lost sight of him.

“It’s not like you to run from a battle, Techno,” Phil says smugly, flying beside him.

“What battle?” Techno says before urging his horse to run faster. Phil keeps pace flawlessly, earring a glare from his son. “Look, I know our opinions on war and government differ and everything, but was all of this _**really**_ necessary?” he pants. “It’s what, a three-day trip between here and home?” They’re going so fast now they have to shout at one another to hear over the wind resistance.

Phil huffs. “Believe it or not, I’m not here just to chew you out over politics.” He maneuvers to avoid a tree branch, losing sight of Techno for just a moment.

Techno scoffs. “So it’s only _**one**_ of the reasons?”

“Among many,” Phil smirks. Techno side-eyes him warily. “But seriously, I know you’re not the biggest fan of divine intervention, but that isn’t what this is.”

He’s skeptical. “Oh really? Then tell me, how else did you know where we were?”

“Yes, they _**helped**_ me find you,” Phil yells, exasperated. “But it was completely off the books. I’m here to help you — not them.”

“By making us think they ordered a hit on us?!” He stares in disbelief, mouth agape.

“I had to make it look real so no one would come looking for you after we left. I need you to trust me on this.”

Techno rolls his head mockingly. “Oh, that’s _**rich**_. I think we both remember what happened the last time I did that.”

Phil opens his mouth to retaliate, but a sudden jolt to his brain stops him mid-thought. Huh, there’s an idea. Man, the higher ups have been oddly helpful today. Well, he wasn’t about to pass up a free teleport. He just needs to wait for the signal and — oh, they’re ready.

“Hey, Techno, do you remember when I would grab you by the arms and fly way up high. Back when you were little?”

Techno gives him a weird look, clearly confused by the random shift in thought. “You mean all the _**child endangerment**_? How could I fORGEEEEEEEEET—”

Without warning, Phil takes him by the arms and hoists him off his horse. He flies high into the sky at record speed, Techno screaming all the way. Then, in a flash of light, they’re gone. Phil, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy all disappear without a trace, leaving behind some spooked wildlife and a very distressed Tubbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> admittedly I haven't written much for this fic in a bit, but I hope to follow up with more chapters whenever I feel like getting around to it. So stay tuned!


End file.
